


The Romantic

by legendofthesevenstars



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Family, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthesevenstars/pseuds/legendofthesevenstars
Summary: Watching his son falling in love for the first time, Miqol reminiscences on his own experience with romance. Millennia later, a proposition by Vanea shocks him and makes him wonder how well he really knows his children.





	The Romantic

Miqol would have been remiss not to notice the changes in his son’s demeanor once he started embarking on his trips across the Bionis. There was a lightness in Egil’s step, not just because his travels had given him plenty of practice walking, which was essential for young adult Machina. He had always been a dreamer, but his glimmering eyes and long glances into the distance, were not solely the result of wanderlust or introspection.

Observing Egil’s transformation made him chuckle. At that age, he’d been a young engineer crafting and repairing Mechon, when the deep voice of a young lady standing next to him made him turn his head, and he was captivated by a pair of red eyes. Yes, he understood that feeling all too well, and he, too, had fallen victim to daydreams, smiled with reckless abandon. They’d courted for twenty years before marriage, but when the twins were still young, she’d developed a severe ether deficiency and died a decade later. Thousands of years had passed since then. He was glad he was still alive to witness his son falling in love.

When he was back from his travels, Egil spent a lot of time engineering Mechon and other devices just like his father had, and was often at home with Vanea, but sometimes they would visit Miqol together or on their own, and he heard about Egil rambling across the Bionis and Vanea struggling through studying medicine. One evening Egil visited carrying a sheaf of bound paper, and Miqol felt excitement well up in his chest; this had to be the poetry of which Vanea had sung praises.

“What’ve you got there, boy?” he asked.

Egil paused for a moment to catch his breath. The commute from the Central Factory to Agniratha was a steep one, even with all the lifts that made getting there and getting home easier. He looked quite harried—it must have been a busy day.

“I stopped at our home before I came,” he said. “I’ve brought my poetry to share, as you requested. But first, I must ask you something important.”

Miqol perked up. It wasn’t so often Egil would ask questions. He had been an inquisitive child, yes, and he’d always needed to know. But now, probably because he was older and felt silly if he _didn’t_ know, he preferred trying to find things out on his own. “Well, go on then. I’m listening.”

“I… you see…” He stuttered a few more times before he gathered himself. “What was it like when you were courting Mother?”

Miqol laughed a powerful belly laugh. “Oh, that was so long ago. Don’t you think society has changed a bit by now?”

“Please refrain from mocking me, Father,” Egil said firmly, his expression hardening. “I’m asking a serious question.”

“I wasn’t mocking you. Merely feeling nostalgic.” Miqol leaned back slightly in his chair. “What do you want to know?”

“What did you do? Did you send her letters? Write poetry for her?”

“Mostly, we just talked.” The conversations had always been nicely balanced. Miqol didn’t mind doing much of the talking, and she had also been talkative. But neither of them had a problem being on the listening end. “We went to see a play. We went to see Lady Meyneth together. Not much different from the things I do now, just more pleasant because I had her company.”

“Yes, it is certainly pleasant to be in the company of a loved one.” A ghost of a smile played on Egil’s lips.

“Is that why you’ve taken to poetry all of a sudden?” Miqol asked.

“ _Father_!” Egil was indignant; there was a click of gears in his chest, and he gritted his teeth. “Do you think this is any business of yours?”

“You’ve brought it up, so I’d say it is my business.”

“So I have, but…” Egil turned away. “It’s not as if I’ve come to ask for your blessing.”

“But you’ve piqued my curiosity by asking questions relevant to courting someone.”

“I am _not_ asking about courting someone. All I want to know is if—if—” He looked away, swallowing. “Would it be strange if I told my _friend_ I had written poetry about our travels, and if I had wondered what it might be like if this _friend_ and I became… interested in each other?”

Miqol had to stifle another chuckle. This had to be the same “friend” Egil had met on the Bionis that he’d talked about so often, albeit in an oblique way: he never mentioned the fellow by name. But, putting two and two together, this had to be the man making his son’s hearts beat faster, the one putting the spring in his step.

“Why not share your poetry with your friend as a means of confession? Perhaps your friend will enjoy your poetry. You like spending time with this friend. And he’s put up with you for long enough too, hasn’t he?”

“I didn’t say _he_ ,” Egil corrected, stern but sheepish. He rustled the bound paper in his hands. “Regardless, you requested to read my poetry, so I’ve brought some of it. I plan to share this with him—I mean with my friend when I next return.”

“Oh, what a joy. I’ve been looking forward to this.” Miqol accepted the bound paper from Egil and opened it up to the first leaf.

—

Since the creation of the new world, Vanea had been busying herself returning to her doctorly pursuits again. She hadn’t worked as a doctor since the war, when she’d been helping Egil make Face Units with some assistance early on from Linada, her former student a few decades her junior. The two had always been great friends; Miqol was glad to see his daughter getting along so well with Linada, who herself was a bit of a loner aside from her assistant who always accompanied her.

Vanea had always been different from Egil. Egil had been full of emotions to the point of irrationality, and, Miqol supposed, that had been his downfall; Vanea could be sentimental too, sure, but she had always been more practical and grounded. Independent, like Egil; devoted to Lady Meyneth as much as anyone. But she hadn’t shown any interest in romance, not that he recalled, until she came to him and asked, “Could you give me advice regarding Linada? I think I’m interested in courting her.”

He was shocked he hadn’t noticed any change in her. She was so much more direct with the query than Egil; it wasn’t in her nature to dance around even something so personal. She didn’t seem to be ashamed that she had fallen in love at all, not embarrassed at the gravity of romance and the weight that courting carried in Machina society.

She and Linada had practiced together in Agniratha for most of their lives. They probably knew each other almost as well as she and Egil had known each other. He felt sort of silly that he hadn’t thought about Linada being a good partner for Vanea; they were both practically-minded, and Vanea’s warm heart, the tenderness modeled on that of Lady Meyneth, would probably be a good match for someone like Linada who could tend to be a little straitlaced.

“Father, did you hear me? You seem quite bewildered.”

“Not bewildered in the slightest. At least, not about your proposal. I just deserve a bit of a kick in the head for not realizing you were so interested in her.” Egil had always worn his heart on his sleeve. Now, Vanea, she was a little more reserved, but still, he could usually tell the changes in his children. Or he’d thought he could. “It was so easy to realize with Egil…” he muttered.

“It must seem quite unexpected. After all, I’m not sitting around pining and writing poetry,” Vanea said, a little sharply. Then she looked at her feet. “That was crass of me, Father, I apologize.”

Miqol laughed. “There’s no need. You don’t have to prove anything to me, Vanea.” He shook his head slowly. “You two were good friends and colleagues for a long time. If you’ve grown to care for her, why not tell her about it? Perhaps there’ll be a good outcome, and she will feel the same way.”

“I wonder sometimes if she does.” Vanea tapped her chin with the nail of her index finger. “There were many times our hands brushed by accident when we both reached for tools. Many overlong glances.” She paused to think, then looked up at Miqol. “Father, did you know, all that time she lived in the Hidden Village, and she didn’t court a single person?”

“I do recall as much. She’s a free woman.” He waved his hand. “Go ahead. Ask her if you can court her.”

“Thank you for your advice, Father.”

“Sure. Still, don’t discount poetry. Everyone likes a little romance now and then.”


End file.
